


Hey Google, What Do You Call a Characteristic of Being Human?

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [25]
Category: A Saga of Light and Dark - T. J. Chamberlain
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sports, Sports Injury, and by that i mean the good ol nerissa/ada/emmet that i can't get enough of, except for a lil bit when ur friend gets hurt, the golden trio ship is there if u squint, there's no crying in baseball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: In which Emmet's entire mindset is: "Hey guys, check out how many memes I can send at once" while everyone else is far more preoccupied with the dumpster fire that was last night's baseball game.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648339
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Hey Google, What Do You Call a Characteristic of Being Human?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silver_fish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/gifts).



The bat makes a funny, thuddy sound as it pats against the inside of Emmet’s cleat. He takes a breath, brings it up, and makes one practice swing, then two. The lingering winter chill in late February bites at his cheeks, roseying them—or maybe that’s just an effect of the harsh lighting high above the field. 

“Look at him,” Nerissa mutters, huddling close to Ada. “I bet he thinks he looks cool. Biggest dork I’ve ever seen.”

“Nerissa…”

Nerissa tosses a cheeky grin at Ada. She zeroes in her attention on Emmet again and watches the way his number wrinkles and unfolds and wrinkles and unfolds. “What? I’m allowed to say these things. He said it keeps him humble.” She watches him take another swing. “Plus, his jersey’s too big.”

“He wanted to keep his number from last year. Leave him alone.”

Nerissa stifles a snicker.

With a couple of careful _clangs_ over the steel bleachers, Poseidon shimmies over with his two arms full of nachos. Isobel follows behind, carrying the drinks in her mittened hands. As soon as she sees Emmet is on deck, Isobel gasps and scurries closer. She sets down the cups of steaming hot chocolate on the lower bench as fast as she can.

“Oh good, oh good,” Isobel huffs and sits. She pinches off her mittens and drops them in her lap. Immediately, she fishes her phone out of her pocket. “I was worried I would miss his at-bat, and just as they have their chance to pull ahead! One more run and the game could be theirs. Oh, this is so exciting. This has been such a long and harrowing series of innings, don’t you think?”

Nerissa shares a look with Ada and reaches for the nachos still in Poseidon’s arms. Her brother gives a small, “Hey!” before swatting at her hand and she scoffs. “What, those aren’t all for _you,_ you little gremlin.”

“Aren’t they, though?”

“Sharing is caring.”

“Which is exactly why I’m gonna share them with Ada.”

“Aw, thanks, Si!” Ada sings as she pops a queso-covered chip in her mouth.

Nerissa scowls at Poseidon before she reaches over Ada’s lap to snag a few chips—much to Poseidon’s crying dismay—and nearly as immediately, Isobel is leaning over them to direct their attention back to the diamond.

“It’s his turn! We’ve got a runner on first now, so look alive, kids!” she says and holds up her phone. With a few taps, she catches a handful of snaps of Emmet walking up to the plate and rolling his shoulders. He swings twice again—at which Nerissa rolls her eyes and mutters to Ada, “Why’s he still doing that?”—before he sinks lower and sets his weight onto his back foot.

“Here we go…” Isobel hums and crosses her fingers.

The first pitch is perfect. It sails right into the catcher’s glove with a satisfying _thwack._ Emmet doesn’t even flinch.

“Strike one!”

“Augh!” Nerissa groans as Poseidon and Ada, at the same time, cup their mouths to shout, “You’ve got this, Emmet! Keep your eye on the ball!”

The catcher lobs the ball back to the mound. Cheers resound from the opposing stands; some parents have started stomping their feet against the bleachers either in an effort to keep warm or to make as much distracting noise as possible. Nerissa doesn’t know which; she wraps her arms around her middle, bends over her knees, and watches as the pitcher leans back for another throw.

This one, Emmet hits. 

The ball soars—a perfect hit that runs past the reaching glove of the shortstop and sails into where the dirt meets the grassy outfield. It bounces and then—somehow—slips by the glove of the right fielder. It keeps going.

Emmet is at first, his teammate on third, by the time the ball finally makes it back to the pitcher.

Ada and Poseidon jump to their feet, screaming.

Isobel’s excitedly bouncing up and down. She grasps Nerissa’s arm once the adrenaline has died down and shakes her once, twice. “Look at that! That’s my boy! Oh, I’m so proud! Great hit, _mjio!”_

Nerissa smiles and fights the urge to roll her eyes.

Somehow, she crosses gazes with Emmet, so overconfident and cocky with one foot off of first base in a long, lean lunge. Is he grinning out there? It’s hard to see with the helmet over his tanned face. Either way, she shakes her head and waves his attention off. _Why are you looking at me, dummy? Focus on your game!_

Emmet waves back and then crosses both arms over his knee. His eyes have dropped to his teammate up at bat. Tension lines his form.

He casts one glance at his coach, who turns and coolly makes an odd gesture, dragging his fingers horizontally across his chest. Nearly just as quickly—calmly—like he’s scratching an itch—he rubs at his nose with the same hand.

The ball is pitched and Emmet doesn’t blink. He just goes for it, running straight on to second.

There’s something in the settling _wait_ of Emmet in the dust afterward that Nerissa can recognize. She knows that cool focus; she’s felt it many times herself. It’s perhaps the one similarity they share: the more pressure they are under, the calmer they feel. Now, with a runner on third and second, all Emmet needs to do is wait for the perfect opportunity. He won’t budge until it’s there.

The next batter hits the ball in a neat, straight line between the first and second basemen. The second baseman picks it up, hands it to first and with a wicked-sharp turn and quick aim, the first baseman then chucks the ball towards home.

Somehow—incredibly—the runner is caught before their toe can hit the plate.

A nervous tension breaks out across the home team’s bleachers.

“What?” Poseidon whines, queso-covered nacho chip forgotten pinched between his fingers.

Nerissa sighs and rubs her hands up and down her face. “Ugh. Of course it’s up to Emmet, now. Top of the last inning. Tied score. Two outs and he’s on third. I can just hear him now, eating up the spotlight. He’s gotta _love_ this.”

“Really? I think he’d hate it,” Ada hums and eats Poseidon’s chips for him as his attention rests solely on the baseball diamond beyond the wire fence.

The next hit is out to the outfielders. The moment the ball hits the ground, Emmet _moves._

Nerissa unintentionally jolts the same instant he does. Her boots clang against the steel floor of the bleachers as she watches him sprint, barely holding her breath. Ada and Poseidon start screaming at her side, clutching at one another, over and over again shouting, “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!”

Nerissa spies the small white shot of the baseball over the pitcher’s head as he ducks low to the mound. It’s a neat, beautiful throw, for as much as she hates the ease with which the catcher snaps it up in his mitt and _slams_ his glove down towards Emmet, sliding for home— 

—there’s a spray of dust and the ugly, thudding sound of crashing limbs— 

—Nerissa shoots to her feet.

“Oh no,” Isobel breathes.

The dirt settles.

The umpire is the first one to help the catcher up from where he’s fallen over Emmet in a heaped tangle of their limbs. Both head coaches shoot forward. The catcher pushes back his mask; there’s a beat where Nerissa half-expects a hand to be extended down to Emmet to help him up to his feet, too, but there isn’t.

His coach kneels over him instead.

“He’s turned away from us,” Nerissa hisses. Her hands fist at her sides. “Why? Why isn’t he looking over here?”

“Do you think he’s okay?” Ada whispers.

Isobel slowly rises to her feet the more and more seconds that pass and her son isn’t getting up off the ground. “I’m going down there.” 

“But—”

“Stay here.” 

There isn’t much she can do when Isobel talks like _that_.

Nerissa watches her descend the stands and quickly walk around the long cinderblock wall of the home dugout. Her dark brown hair is nearly black in its shadow, loose waves bouncing against her shoulders. No one stops Isobel when she opens the gate and steps onto the field. That, more than anything, makes Nerissa’s gut twist.

“You think he’s hurt real bad?” Poseidon whispers, leaning in close to Ada’s side.

Ada wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “I…don’t know. Maybe he _is_.”

And why is that so hard for Nerissa to swallow?

* * *

Emmet has to be carried off the field.

Nerissa likes none of it. She hates it, in fact.

The sight of his coach and a tall teammate coming over to get his arms over their shoulders and help him limp back to the dugout burns into her mind. She’s not sure why. It bothers her, churns her stomach like she’s going to be sick. Nerissa sets her hot chocolate cup on the lower bench her feet are propped up on and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs fly across the screen.

_hey u good? < _ 7:16 PM

Nerissa’s leg bounces as she waits.

Ada leans over her shoulder, eyes locked on the bright screen. Poseidon glances at them both briefly, before his gaze snaps to the dugout again.

“I think they’re calling someone,” he mutters.

“Oh no. Do you think it’s that serious?” Ada’s voice is as soft as a whisper.

Nerissa doesn’t lift her face from her screen. Her frown pinches harder on her face.

_hey. asshole. txt me._ < 7:19 PM

Still no response. Not even a tiny, dancing ellipses to assure her that he’s paying attention to her and her ill-disguised panic.

“Augh! It’s just his leg, right?” Nerissa finally bursts.

When she turns, both Ada and Poseidon are staring at her, eyebrows raised. 

Nerissa fights the ugly yanking pull of her stomach and continues, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like he was shot. The catcher was fine, and Emmet knocked the guy clear off his feet! He’s _got_ to be okay; this is the Drama King we’re talking about, here. He’s just being a big baby. That’s all.” _That’s all it’s got to be._

“Issa…” 

Nerissa ignores the worry in Poseidon’s voice the instant she can feel her phone finally buzz. She slams her fingers against the screen to open it.

7:24 PM > _hey mom says u guys should prbly call ur parents unless u wanna stay for the rest of the last inning. she’s takin me to the hospital._ ✌

What.

Nerissa stares at the tiny yellow victory hand emoji and feels like she’s gonna lose her mind. “What. The fu—”

“Issa!”

“Sorry, just—AUGH! He makes me so mad sometimes.” Nerissa types out a quick _fuck you_ and switches as fast as she can to the family group thread of texts. She starts typing as she says, “Well. Whatever. If he’s gonna be like that, then I guess the fun’s over for us.” 

“What?”

Ada gives a soft sigh and pulls out her phone, as well, with more deft grace than Nerissa and her fury.

“What does that mean, Issa? Are we going home?” Poseidon casts a glance to the field where the opposing team’s players out on the field have bowed their heads in a circle as they talk around the mound. Several of the home team members are idling near the dugout, having made way for the umpire and head coaches from both teams as they stand over where Emmet’s been sat down.

“Yeah,” Nerissa sighs and hits _send._ She gets to her feet. “Come on, Si. Let’s go wait by the lot.”

The three of them gather up their things and leftover concession-stand food and transfer their waiting place to the curb closest to the parking lot. In the distance, they can hear the vibrant cheers from the opposing team’s stands that signals the end of the game.

* * *

Emmet is not at school the next day. Or the day after that. 

On Saturday, Nerissa and Ada decide it’s time for an intervention and arrive on his doorstep with a “get-well-soon” pineapple tucked under Ada’s arm and a folder of all of Emmet’s missed schoolwork under Nerissa’s. Isobel lets them in with a warm welcome and takes their coats and the “get well” gift and directs them to the living room where Emmet is and says that she’ll be there soon; she’s wrapping some _chuchitos_ for when they are inevitably hungry.

Emmet is propped up in a tacky green suede lazy-boy with his leg wrapped in a cast and ice and towels with crumbs all over his lap and his Xbox controller in hand and the instant he sees them, his toothy grin brightens to a million watts.

“Guys!” he grins. “Just in time! I was gonna—”

Nerissa shoves her phone screen in his face. 

“—uh—?”

“Do you think this is funny?” Nerissa hisses and glowers. She pulls back her phone and, with the screen still facing him, scrolls up and up and up. Countless messages and images stream by—all the ones that have been sent from Emmet to their friend group text thread the past few days. “Do you?”

Slowly, Emmet grins again. “Actually? Yeah.”

“If you were well enough to _meme_ us half to death, then you’re undoubtedly well enough to go to school!” Nerissa huffs. Her eyes drop to his leg propped up on a pillow and bounce back up just as quickly. 

“Uh…”

Ada puts a hand on Nerissa’s arm. “I think what Nerissa _means_ to say is that she misses you.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“Mm.” Ada makes an unconvinced sound and takes the homework folder from Nerissa. She walks the two steps it takes to get to the plaid couch on the other side of the end table and drops the folder on top of it before propping her elbow up on the arm of the sofa and resting her cheek against her fist. “Well, we’ve come to deliver you your favorite thing ever, so you’re welcome. _I_ at least think it’s good to see you, Emmet.”

“Thanks, Ada.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Great,” Emmet says too quickly, words nearly spitting out of him as he turns to Ada and not Nerissa who’s still standing right in front of him. “Been doing nothing but playing Minecraft all day for the past 72 hours, so y’know. That’s been awesome.”

“Mm.”

Isobel leans into the room with a grin. “Thirsty? Can I get you girls anything?”

Nerissa and Ada both ask for water and after Isobel sets three glasses down on the end table, two on top of the homework folder, she turns to Nerissa and gestures to the sofa, “Nerissa, you know you are more than welcome to take a seat. Make yourself at home.”

“Yeah.” Nerissa doesn’t move.

Emmet puts on a wide grin. “Yeah. C’mon, Issa. _Mi casa es su casa_ and all that, y’know?”

“I know.”

Isobel hums and walks out, calling over her shoulder, “Well, let me know when you kids are hungry.”

“Okay, Mom,” Emmet says back. When Nerissa still doesn’t budge, he huffs and cranes his body at odd angles to try seeing around her. “Y’know, Issa, there’s an old saying about making a better door than a window—”

“—is this what it’s gonna be like the entire time we’re here?” 

There must be something in the way the words drop from Nerissa’s mouth that brings the whole room up short. 

Ada and Emmet both snap their gazes to her face and stare. 

Ada is the first to move, straightening up and starting, “Nerissa…”

“Because yeah, I get it,” Nerissa says and her hands tighten into fists at her sides. “You’re Emmet and you wanna put on this whole face that everything’s _fine_ and it’s _cool_ and you’re _okay—_ ”

“—but I _am_ okay—”

“—we watched you get carried off the field, Emmet!” 

And Nerissa doesn’t know why her shoulders are so tight. She doesn’t know why this bothers her so much, except that it’s all she can think about every single time her phone buzzes with another dumb _It’s Always Sunny_ picture with bold white font strung across it that he thought was enough to give him stitches. “Like, you couldn’t _walk._ I _know_ that you had to be in a lot of pain, but you didn’t text me at all that entire night!”

“Uh, I told you I was going to the hospital, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but that was it!” Nerissa throws an arm out to Ada. “Next message I get from you is during chemistry the next morning, and it’s a link to a stupid cat video!” 

“But didja see it?”

Nerissa sighs and runs her hands down her face. Pleadingly, she turns to Ada. 

Ada, for the second time that day, decides to translate. “Nerissa’s trying to say she’s worried about you.”

“That’s not _quite_ what I’m—”

“—but she also wants you to know that she’d like you to let us know if you really are okay and not just constantly receive stand-ins for your wellbeing that you think will satisfy us and make us stop asking.”

Emmet snaps his eyes between the two of them. Bewilderment crosses his face first before he frowns. “Whoa, really?”

Nerissa groans. “How dumb are you?”

“Hey!”

“Listen, Emmet—”

“—no, no! I hear you! I really do!” Emmet throws his hands up and fans out his fingers. Nerissa watches him with steely blue eyes and after enough of her staring and the awkward silence that follows, Emmet fidgets. 

Nerissa crosses her arms over her chest.

Emmet sighs, scrunched like there’s something sour on his tongue. “Look. Sorry to disappoint you both when you’re uh, so worried about me and being nice—in your own kind of way, I guess—but I kind of…I kind of _don’t_ want to talk about it? That’s…the entire reason why I wasn’t texting you at odd hours of the night.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s _embarrassing_.”

Nerissa’s eyes shoot down to his wrapped up leg, then back up at his face. “How?”

“Uh, how about because it was the first home game of the season?”

Ada shrugs. “Would you rather have had it happen at an away game or the second home game? Would that have made a difference?”

“I’m just saying our loss wouldn’t have sucked so bad if it was on someone else’s field.”

Nerissa tilts her head. Something about his words strikes her as odd. She pokes it. “You _do_ know it’s not your fault you guys lost.”

“But I could have been why we won,” Emmet grumbles and an awkward silence falls over them. 

Emmet picks at the upper edge of the casing wrapped around his knee. After a drawn-out sigh, he adds, “Did I tell you guys the docs say they don’t know if my knee will heal in time before sectionals?” 

_No,_ Nerissa wants to say, _that’s kind of been my entire point, doofus._

But she doesn’t, because now that Emmet’s begun, the rest of it comes tumbling out of him: “Y’know, I was actually really looking forward to this year too because it was my first time on the varsity team _._ They put me on the starting line-up. Third basemen. I thought I was so cool—and then what do I go and do? I crash into the catcher of the opposite team right when we need a run the most. We could have gotten us our lead. We were tied in the top of the last inning and needed that chance to get ahead. Then I _wiped out_ trying to run home before we switched sides and…you know the rest.”

Emmet takes a cold, steely breath and doesn’t look up, eyes resolutely fixed on his knee. “The thing is: it was supposed to be my moment, and then it wasn’t. Even when I tried so hard for it, all I ended up doing was looking like an idiot.”

After a bit more subdued silence, he adds: “Like I always do.”

Ada jerks forward. “Emmet…”

Emmet gives a long groan and leans back in the chair, pressing both hands to his face. His controller falls to his lap and tumbles between his thigh and the arm. “See? This is why I _didn’t_ want to talk about it.”

“But I’m glad you did.”

Emmet’s hands fall away. He glares at Nerissa. “Really? Because _you’re_ the one who’s always telling me how stupid I am.” 

“That’s because you _are._ ”

Emmet rolls his eyes.

“But…” Nerissa pauses and thinks carefully about what she’s going to say. After a moment, she walks over to the couch and finally sits down on the other side of Ada. She leans back and lets her eyes drift to the ceiling. “There’s nothing dumb about trying your best and still failing, Emmet. That’s…kind of normal, actually.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Nerissa?” 

“Jackass.” Nerissa closes her eyes and huffs, propping out her legs so her form is one long, lean, oblique line. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“Well…thanks,” Emmet says slowly. “I guess.”

Ada smiles in the ensuing quiet. It’s soft and somehow better than before. 

Emmet brings up his Minecraft game and wants to show off what he’s been up to these past few days and Nerissa grumblingly agrees even though she can’t _stand_ Minecraft and Ada laughs and sips her glass of water and thinks that she’s glad they came over to see him. If not just to see for themselves that Emmet’s okay, then to also let him see that they do care about the vulnerable, human part of himself that he so often likes to pretend doesn’t exist.

**Author's Note:**

> guuueeeeessSSSSSSSSS WHAT. Taylo, my amazing friend who requested this "bad things happen" bingo prompt from me with their own OC's, has a BOOK!!! it's COMING OUT SOON!! SO if you like these kiddos, you should CHECK OUT THE BOOK. JUST SAYING. Because they're super adorable and amazing and I have the PDF right now that I'm reading though and it's WONDERFUL.
> 
> Check out this [twitter post](https://twitter.com/laphicets/status/1292992751475154944?s=20) / [tumblr post](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com/post/626114972108390400/in-the-world-of-komos-everything-is-neatly) for more details!!
> 
> as always, thanks for reading <3


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